


Sacrilege

by gingeringfigs



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Church Sex, Churches & Cathedrals, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingeringfigs/pseuds/gingeringfigs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strider twins Dirk and Dave desecrate a church confessional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrilege

The confessional was built out of fine dark oak. Delicate filigrees of flowers decorated the doors in graceful arcs. Red linen curtains were drawn across the mesh windows, affording both ventilation and privacy. It was separated into two compartments by a latticed wooden wall, one for the priest and one for the penitent sinner. Inside both compartments, a cushioned bench along with a kneeler had been built in, so one could either sit or kneel while they were inside the booth.

 

Dave was also thankful that the booth’s priest compartment was wide enough to accommodate both Dirk and him  (he wouldn’t be surprised that there are some very corpulent priests, knowing how some grew fat and greedy on their gullible sheep’s wealth). He was pressed down against the bench with his grey cloak bunched up underneath him and he thought that if he had been wearing armour as usual, it would have been quite painful. Dirk straddled him with a familiar gleam in his orange eyes and a wicked smile. He leant down to kiss him as Dave leant up to meet him halfway. He parted his lips to allow him in as he immediately reached up to bury his hands in Dirk’s hair, mindful of the silver circlet resting on his brow.

 

Despite his earlier spirited protests, Dirk had somehow managed to wrest him into the confessional, snatching up a silver flask of holy anointing oil along the way. Admittedly, Dave hadn’t really tried very hard to resist, the idea of having flagrant sex inside a church confessional appealing to the devil inside him. Dirk, his elder twin and King Regnant of the Derse Kingdom, could also be quite persuasive with both words and his talented mouth and hands, Dave admitted to himself with some irony. Idle hands were the devil’s tools indeed, the devil being Dirk.

 

Dirk’s idle hands were now occupied; his nimble fingers untying the knot in Dave’s girdle. Dave lifted his hips off the bench to accommodate him as he gently carded his hands through Dirk’s hair. It shone like burnished gold in the dappled light streaming into the confessional through the red curtains. When Dirk shifted, his hair looked like flames. His eyes burn orange and his clothes are a deep royal purple. In contrast, Dave is a pale ghost with colourless hair and skin.  His clothes are black and grey like the crow messengers he employed. The only colour he possesses is his vivid red eyes.

 

Dirk easily read his distraction and raised an eyebrow at him in question. Dave shook his head slightly and muttered; “Doing it in the confessional is so sacriliegious that I’m sure Karkat would have the vapours if he ever got wind of this.” Dirk dropped the Dave’s girdle onto the floor and he smiled slightly as he leisurely pushed up Dave’s tunic. He petted Dave’s sides, and watched in satisfaction as he arched into his hands like a cat with a quiet purr. He calmly replied, “This is my church, so I don’t think he would really fuss.”

 

Dave’s quiet purring stopped as he narrowed his eyes at Dirk. He punched his arm; “Of course he wouldn’t dare to complain to your face when you are the _King_ and husband of his _Queen_ Meenah Peixes. Instead, he does so in my company with regularity and astounding volume about your many ‘feckless’ deeds and ‘callous’ manipulations. It gets tiresome after a while when you are kept up late through the night into the morning by his complaints.”

 

Catching Dave’s wrist, Dirk smugly smirked.  Pinning it above his head, he said, “Does he? Vantas must trust you well, to the point of venting his feelings about me to you, when he knows that you are my twin and could possibly charge him for treason.”

 

“He doesn’t. He only sees me as the Derse equivalent of his position as Peixes’s steward. Mind you, he does say some very _valid_ truths about you,” Dave corrected him, as he lay supine under Dirk, not making a move to pull his wrist out of his grasp. He didn’t like to advertise the fact that he was actually the King’s younger twin brother, preferring to keep to the shadows. It made his work as Dirk’s spymaster (and assassin) too complicated and messy. Dave also had no desire to be King nor did he want the oft-desired position of the Prince Royal.  He was not comfortable with the people of the court, the only exceptions being Lady Lalonde, Lady Harley and Duke Egbert. Dirk made a very unkingly snort and glossed over Dave’s discontented grumbles with a mild observation, “I’m surprised that he doesn’t know that you are also of the House of Strider when you bear the face of one.”

 

Dave only rolled his eyes in response to that. Most people don’t bother to look closely beyond his albino appearance and his blood-red eyes to see the aristocratic Strider features. In addition, he’d always looked more fey than usual Strider stock due to resurgent Lalonde blood in his veins (a Lalonde had married into the Strider House generations ago). They fear him as the “Frân-cythraul”/ _Crow Demon_ and he capitalises on the fear to cloak his identity in mystery to all except his close friends and family. Tired of conversation and not liking where it was headed, he fisted Dirk’s purple tunic with his free hand and yanked him down for a biting kiss. He ground up against Dirk’s groin to remind him of their original goal. Dirk chuckled lowly and acquieseced to his demands for the time being.

 

It rapidly grew stuffy inside the confessional with the combination of the rising heat from their bodies and the summer heat. It was a relief for both of them when they finally shed their heavy cloaks and leggings, freeing them from the abominable heat and pressure in their loins. Dirk acted quickly and decisively. Employing lightning speed that had made the House of Strider so fearsome on the battlefield, he retrieved Dave’s girdle from the floor and expertly bound Dave’s wrists before he could react. Dave yelped indignantly as his hands were pinned to the window, the leather girdle looped through the gaps of the grid and around his wrists.

 

He scowled at Dirk, “If this is how you treat Peixes in bed, it’s no wonder she frequently partakes of other people’s beds.” He was greeted with a small smirk as Dirk looked meaningfully at his erect shaft that hadn’t flagged in the least. He observed with a drawl, “You know quite well that Meenah and I have not had any physical relations and do not wish to have any issue from our political marriage. Besides, you haven’t said that you dislike being manhandled.” Dave closed his mouth as his cheeks and ears slowly flushed red, as he looked away to the side, unable to refute Dirk.

 

Dirk opened the filched flask of anointing oil and dripped the precious yellow oil on his hand. The fragrant scent of myrrh filled the air and Dave took a deep breath as he watched Dirk spread the oil around on his hand and fingers.  When Dirk pushed his thighs apart to situate himself between his legs, he gave little resistance, knowing that now wasn’t the best time for their usual games of will.

 

Without preamble, Dirk slid his fingers into Dave as quickly as he could without hurting him. Biting his lip to stifle a grunt, Dave tried to lift his hips higher but he had little leverage on the narrow bench much to his frustration. So he had to settle for pulling at the leather girdle around his wrists as he trembled on the bench with Dirk’s fingers moving in him and preparing him.

 

Soon, Dave felt ready. Dirk also thought the same as he withdrew his fingers from his ass, before he was already pressing back in with his substantially wider girth. Dave could barely restrain a soft moan as he tugged harder at the girdle as he was filled. Dirk lifted his right leg over his shoulder and hooked his left leg around his hip before he started to briskly thrust into his twin. Dave arched into his thrusts, desperately wishing that his hands were free so he could reach down to stroke his need.

 

Soon, Dave realised that although the confessional was wide enough to accommodate both of them, it wasn’t quite high or long enough as Dirk bent lower over him to avoid hitting his head on the roof. The effect of his adjustment now forced Dave’s right leg higher and he was bent double like one of those roaming gypsy gymnasts, his legs forced into an unnatural vertical split even as he was being thoroughly ravished. It was rather uncomfortable and he knew that he would be aching afterwards.

 

Though Dirk was being rough, he was still an attentive lover as he put his hand on Dave’s shaft and pumped him, wrenching a deep moan from his twin. Dirk swallowed the moan as he kissed Dave to keep him quiet. Dave moaned fitfully against Dirk’s lips, desperate to have his hands free, so he could reach out to bury his hands in Dirk’s hair, touch his body and keep him close. Dirk deepened his thrusts into long lunges as he pulled Dave’s ass higher into his lap. Dave clenched his fists, as he tilted his head back and hazily stared up at the low wooden ceiling with half-lidded eyes, falling deeper into the consuming heat.

 

All of a sudden, Dirk stopped and clapped his hand over Dave’s mouth to silence a complaining whine. He was still and alert as he looked at the screen that separated the other compartment from theirs. Dave felt heat turn into ice in his veins when he heard Karkat Vantas’ voice, “Priest, I have come to confess.”

 

 _No. This was not happening,_ Dave thought in mortification as he stared wide-eyed at the screen. He tried to sit up, but was forced to remain prone on the bench when the girdle cut into his wrists with the motion. Dirk made no move to withdraw from his body as he continued to listen to Karkat with a blank face. He eventually replied with a straight face, “I am here. What sin have you committed?”

 

Dave gaped at Dirk with wide incredulous eyes. Dirk glanced back down at him and held up a single finger to his mouth. Not that he would have been able to with Dirk’s hand firmly sealed over his mouth. Dave narrowed his eyes and bit his hand, forcing him to quickly retract his hand, finally freeing his mouth. He hissed, “What are you _doing_?”

 

Dirk shook his stinging hand with an amused smile. He was still impossibly calm despite the huge potential risk of being caught in flagrante delicto in a church confessional. His image would be completely shattered into smithereens, even more so when it was Karkat Vantas right next door. Dave couldn’t believe Dirk’s gall and even now, his twin continued to surprise and vex him. Dirk leaned down to whisper into his ear, “Keeping our cover from being completely fucked over.”

 

“Can’t you just tell him to leave?” Dave’s erection was already starting to wilt. Dirk just smiled and he resumed thrusting as he pumped Dave’s shaft. Dave gasped. Dirk explained, “And arouse Vantas’ suspicion? No, it’s better that we play pretend and I’m also quite curious to know what he has to say.”

 

“You’re the worst!”

 

“I know.” Dirk’s smile was infuriatingly smug and Dave itched to punch it off his face. Then Dirk _shifted,_ and it took everything Dave had to seal an incriminating loud moan from escaping his lips. Dirk’s smirk grew a smidgeon wider.

 

+

 

Thankfully, Karkat did not hear them, being so deep in his thoughts. He finally lifted his head and answered the unseen ‘priest’ behind the screen, “To confess, Priest, I find myself wrestling with the sin of wrath all too frequently of late.”

 

“I see. Can you elaborate further?”

 

“The King and Queen are the most trying people that I have ever had the misfortune to meet. If not for the fact that I am born of the House of Vantas and direct descendant of the Great Sufferer, I would not even be within a ten-foot pole of the Queen. She sadistically delights in my misery as I am forced to chase after her like she is a witless and feral child through the whole of the city. I am a laughingstock among my peers!”

 

Karkat paused to draw in another breath before continuing his verbose complaints, “If I was so allowed, I would leash her with an iron chain and hold the other end of the leash so she does not disappear like a vagrant. But NO, she would just read my attempts to leash her as an amorous advance on her and have me in her bed before I am even able to deny her.”

 

Karkat bowed his head in his hands, pulling his dark curly locks in a fit of temper. He stomped the floor with his foot, jarring the confessional and the echo rang loudly, louder than he expected. Cringing and abashed by his loss of control, he apologised, “Pardon me.”

 

The priest was quiet for a few minutes and he heard the rustling of cloth behind the screen. He finally replied, “You’re forgiven. Are you not done with your confession?”

  
The calm voice sounded vaguely familiar but Karkat could not place where he might have heard it in his memory. He eagerly leapt at the chance to continue his rant, “No, I have not finished pouring out my vitriol and wrath. I must expend these feelings within my heart lest I am driven to do something drastic. I might even dash my head against the wall or perhaps, request my friend Equius Zahhak to shoot me with his bow like his ancestor did to mine, the Great Sufferer. Would you listen?”

 

“I will. The church is open to all and your grievances will be kept in faith.” The priest’s voice was laced with humour and Karkat flushed, his dusky complexion taking on a red tint, matching his deep red outfit. Flustered that he had made a fool out of himself (in front of a priest no less!), he quickly thanked him and stumbled over his next words, “Ah, right, well, I also have many grievances with the King as I have said earlier. While the King is not as wild as the Queen, they are both very similar in their unhealthy disregard for protocol. He also shares the Queen’s joy in seeing me twist and turn in the wind at his many whims. To be tortured by two sadistic royals must surely equal the pain the Great Sufferer experienced.”

  
“I’m sure that it must be the Frog’s trial for you,” The priest mildly said. “He would not make you suffer unduly so without reward.”

 

Karkat’s thick brows dipped into a surly frown and his lips drew down at the corners. He clasped his hands in front of his chest and pressed, “If that is truly the case, the Frog should strike their Royal Highnesses with a conscience and plague them with remorse. I should be sainted for my patience and my silence as they torment me with their flighty actions.”

 

“I see. The Frog is also magnanimous and benevolent. If He felt that you were unable to cope, He would send you support. Do you not have support?”

 

Karkat thought on it. He slowly nodded, “I am not alone in my trials. For indeed, the King’s Steward also feels the same as I do. He is my kinsman in this sense.”

 

“Is that so? I have heard from his own lips that he still remains fond of his King despite his many faults. Ah, I have overstepped my boundaries. I should not be betraying others’ confidences.”

 

Karkat raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the mention of his fellow Steward. He was not aware that the pale man also visited this church. Leaning closer to the screen, he caught a hint of myrrh and a muskier scent underneath. Wrinkling his nose in distaste at the smell, he entreated the priest, “No, wait. Please tell me what the King’s Steward has said about the King.”

 

Bent over so close to the screen, Karkat could hear some creaking noises. It was rhythmic and regular.  It sounded similar to the noises a rocking chair made over a creaky wooden floor. Wondering if the priest was an elderly man who sat in a rocking chair, Karkat waited in anticipation for his reply. There was a hissing noise that conjured to mind of an elderly man with arthritis complaining with pain. He asked, “Priest, are you well?”

 

“Oh yes, I’m quite well, thank you. Unfortunately, I cannot fulfill your request for that would set a precedent of priests betraying peoples’ secrets willy-nilly.” The priest sounded slightly breathless, rousing Karkat’s anxiety. He acquiseced, “Yes, I understand. I shall not inquire any further.”

 

There was another prolonged silence and Karkat could hear the rhythmic creaking. The musky scent grew stronger to the point that he had to lean away from the screen, resettling himself on the bench. He absently twiddled his thumbs as he looked out of the gridded window at the expansive stained glass windows of the church. It was pleasantly quiet and a oasis of peace here and Karkat idly thought that he would not have minded becoming a warrior priest like his ancestor if this was what he could experience daily.

 

Alas, he had his duties to attend to as the heir of the House of Vantas. If only he had an heir or siblings to take over for him. Sadly, he was an only child and a bachelor. No bastard offspring either. Perhaps, he should start looking for a wife so she could bear him a legitimate heir and he could finally escape to the sanctuary of the Genesis Frog Brotherhood. Karkat sighed and rested his head back on the window. He soon realised that the silence had gone on for too long – had the priest fallen asleep? He called out, “Priest? Are you awake? What should I do to repent of my sin?”

 

The creaking juddered irregularly as though the priest was jolted awake. He finally answered, “Pardon me. I got quite carried away and forgot to administer your repentance. You may repent by reciting the Song of the Rain ten times. I also advise you to meditate more often.”

 

“I shall do as you have advised. Thank you for listening.” Karkat took the priest’s words with a grateful heart, feeling at peace once more. The priest laughed quietly behind the screen, “You are quite welcome, Vantas.”

 

“Do you mind if I stay here in the church a little longer? I would like to pray here.” Karkat was reluctant to leave the sanctuary so soon, to return to his daily torment.

 

“You are quite the pious soul, aren’t you? Of course, you may.”

 

A loud thud was heard. It sounded as though the priest fell onto the floor. Alarmed, Karkat quickly stood up from the bench and asked, “Are you alright? Do you require aid?”

 

The priest sounded faintly annoyed, “Oh no, I don’t need any aid. I keep forgetting how low the ceilings are.”

 

Karkat looked up at the ceiling and saw that indeed, it was quite low. The top of his head would brush the wood if he stood on tiptoe. He cracked a small smile, “Indeed. I didn’t notice that they were so low until you pointed it out to me. My moirail would have much trouble fitting inside the booth. He would have to bend double just to get through the door.”

 

“Hmm.” The priest hummed non-commitally and Karkat could tell that he had already worn out his welcome in the confessional. It would be rather rude for him to continue taking up the priest’s attention when he obviously needed his rest. He said, “Farewell, priest. May I ask your name?”

 

“Schritt. Good bye, Vantas.”

 

Karkat made sure to remember the name and finally left the confessional. He would definitely come to visit the church again and ask for Priest Schritt.

 

+

 

When Dirk finally heard Karkat leave the confessional, he returned his attention to Dave beneath him. He’d earlier stuffed his handkerchief into his twin’s mouth in order to gag him (and out of worry that his twin would bite his tongue) as he continued to fuck him through out his beautifully played deception. Leaning down to kiss Dave’s bruised neck, he whispered triumphantly, “I did say that it would work. You almost blew our cover just now when you nearly bucked me off.”

 

Dave rebelliously glared at him and gave him the middle fingers with his tied hands. Dirk blithely took the insult and replied cheerfully, “Oh no, it’s the other way round.”

 

Dave expressively rolled his eyes at him as he finally spat out the handkerchief. Despite his displeasure and annoyance at Dirk, he was still hard and desperately needed release. He impatiently squeezed his muscles around him as he bucked up, “Shut the fuck up and fuck me. This has gone on quite long _enough_.”

 

Dirk agreed, as he set up a new fast and rough pace. Throwing Dave’s left leg over his shoulder, he forced his twin to jackknife at the waist as he leaned over him to bury himself deeper. Dave winced at his new uncomfortable position and hissed, “Watch it. You’re going to break my back!”

 

Dirk did not reply, wrapping his hand around Dave’s erection and briskly pumped him in time with his thrusts. He slapped Dave’s round ass with his other hand in rebuke, reveling in the harsh gasp and the instinctive tightening around him. Soon, Dave was reduced once more to incoherent whimpers as he was fucked into the bench with such force that the whole confessional shook. He feebly gripped onto the girdle to ground himself in the pleasure, but it was in vain.

 

Already on the edge from both the earlier precarious situation with Karkat and Dirk teasing him through out, it did not take long for Dave to orgasm. He cried out as he writhed under Dirk, spraying his white seed over their tunics. Dirk continued to thrust into him and roughly pump his dick, making Dave want to curl up from the sheer intensity of the sensations rocking his body. Spent, he lay gasping and pliable as Dirk impossibly sped up even further, his hands tightening on his hips. 

 

Dirk finally came with a deep thrust, burying deep into Dave’s core and filled him with his seed. Dave made a tired noise when his twin pulled away from his sore ass; he could feel his warm seed dripping out of him onto the bench below him. It was a relief when Dirk finally released him and allowed him to straighten out his cramped limbs. The scent of myrrh was now very faint, overwhelmed by the smell of their sex. The summer heat made the smell even heavier.

 

“We are not doing this again, Dirk. Not even the threat of sending me to Skaia will work.” Dave demanded as he wearily pulled on his leggings and bound the girdle around his waist. He dearly looked forward to having a long hot soak. Dressing up beside him, Dirk amiably agreed, “No, we won’t. Instead, we’re going to do it on the altar next time.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

+

 

The following week, Karkat Vantas went back to the church to call upon Priest Schritt for his counsel. However, when he made his enquiries with the priest in attendance, he was greeted with a blank face. Frowning, he asked again, “Do you know Priest Schritt? Is he not around?”

 

“I’m sorry but we don’t have a Priest Schritt. We never had anyone with that name.” The young priest replied.

 

Consternated, Karkat explained, “But he was here last week in the confessional. I believe that he was in a rocking chair and of advanced age.”

 

The expression on the priest’s face changed dramatically and he exploded into an angry yell, “You! You were the one who defiled the confessional! Begone, infidel! You think you can fool me with your lies of Schritt when you are here to defile the holy ground once more with your filth. Away with you!”

 

Bewildered, Karkat could barely respond as the priest unceremoniously shoved him out of the church. The doors closed and locked behind him with a resounding thud. He finally stuttered, “W-what?” There was no Schritt? How could that be? He had also gotten blamed for apparently soiling the confessional with his ‘filth’. How offensive!

 

Wait. Schritt. That was German for… _Strider._

Realisation struck him like lightning. Karkat threw his head back to glare at the Derse Palace and furiously shook his fist at it as he yelled, “ _STRIDEEEEER!!!!_ ”

 

**Fin.**

 


End file.
